"They May Take Our Lives, But They Can Never Take Our Freedom!"

Being a life-long lover of Scotland, I have wanted to see Braveheart ever since it came out, but I never went out of my way to do it because I knew it was an extremely graphic film and I figured I'd have a lot of trouble stomaching it. It's the favorite movie of my cousin, who loves Scotland so much that he plays the bagpipes and has even acquired a kilt to match, so I always tell him I need to watch it with him so he can tell me when to close my eyes. It didn't work out that way, but I survived the experience nonetheless.

My brother just purchased this on DVD, and last week I was awakened at about 1:30 in the morning by a lot of racket downstairs and the lilting melody of a stirring soundtrack. "Gee," I thought, "sounds like they're watching Braveheart." My guess was correct, and when I crept down the stairs I announced that I was watching the movie too. I had missed only the first ten minutes, which I happened to have seen at school one time. So I was all set. One-thirty in the morning may seem like an odd time to embark on a three-hour-long movie, but sleep never threatened to consume me. I was wide-awake the entire time.

The movie begins in the hometown of William Wallace, future hero of Scotland. In this brief scene, Murran, a village girl, plants the seeds of romance for the rest of the film when she presents young William with a thistle. Shortly thereafter, the boy is whisked away to join his uncle in Rome, as his father, Malcolm, has just fallen victim to the cruelty of the British king Edward the Longshanks. The orphaned boy will not return until his adulthood, but he will always remember the circumstances of his father's death and the first love of his life.

Twenty years later, Scotland is still in turmoil as it remains under the heavy hand of Longshanks, who is played masterfully by Patrick McGoohan. His dry wit and regal air add to his icy aura, which was suited to a man known as one of the cruelest monarchs to ever sit on the British throne. (A side note: After my dad, a genealogy buff, watched this movie, he recalled that King Edward I was on our family tree. I would much prefer William Wallace for an ancestor!) He has forced his son, who comes off in this film as a spineless ninny cowering in his father's shadow, to marry a French princess (Sophie Marceau), effectively combining the two kingdoms. Meanwhile, in an attempt to entice the British nobles to take root in Scotland, he reinstitutes the old custom of prima nocta, "first night", a law stating that a noble may have full rights to a common girl on the night of her wedding.

William Wallace (Mel Gibson) returns to Scotland, to his hometown, in the midst of a wedding celebration. After being reaccepted into the clan after an amusing "test of manhood" with his former playmate, Wallace immerses himself in the joyous occasion, only to have it cut short by a noble demanding the new bride.

Throughout the festivities, William and Murran (Catherine McCormack) had been eyeing each other, so it's no great surprise when William shows up at her doorstop that evening requesting permission to go riding with her. It's pouring down rain, and her parents object, but Murran is too quick for them and she rides off into the rain with William. Once they are alone, William confesses his undying love for Murran, but he does so in another language so she does not yet understand that the depth of his devotion matches her own. When they part, however, William presents her with a gift: the thistle that he had kept ever since she gave it to him those long years ago.

Their courtship is brief, and the next time they go out, William asks Murran for her hand in marriage. They are married in secret that very night, and here is where the pleasant portion of the story ends.

The very next day, Murran is ambushed by a group of nobles who decide to have their way with her. William comes to her rescue as she is fighting off their brutal attempts, but when she flees to the forest on his horse, the nobles catch up with her and inflict the punishment required for attacking a noble. By the time William arrives, his new bride is dead and with her, his dreams of becoming a farmer and raising children in peace. There can be no turning back now. William Wallace is determined to lead his countrymen to freedom from the tyranny of the British king and his nobles.

And that is exactly what he does for the rest of the film. More and more Scots join his army, and his clever battle strategies and blazing bravery soon make him the most respected man in Scotland -- or in the case of the British and the Scottish nobles, who are content with the status quo, the most despised. Only one Scottish noble believes that William's uprising may be worth it. This man is Robert de Bruce, heir to the throne of Scotland. He has great regard for the commoner whose stirring speeches inspire men to fight and whose courage in the face of danger causes the bravest of opponents to shiver. His father advises him to side with William, but only as long as it looks like he is winning. He must do whatever is necessary to ensure that the throne will be his, even if it means betraying his own people.

In the first major battle of the film, the British troops set out with the intention of intimidating the Scots into submission, adding the incentive of lordship for William Wallace and the other leaders. Wallace, whose stirring call to patriotism just convinced his cowering countrymen not to flee, has no intention of giving in, and he tells the British commander so in no uncertain terms. Then he returns to his post to commence the activities in true Scotsman style. I can just see the headlines: Brave Bill and the Boys Begin Battle with Bemused Brits By Brandishing their Bare Buttocks. Yes, if you've ever "wondered if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt", as the song The Scotsman queries, then wonder no more. Of course, this unconventional show of solidarity isn't much of an effective offensive strategy; these tactics commence shortly thereafter, and though the Scots are greatly outnumbered, they manage to wipe out the entire Northern army.

Now the stakes are really getting high, and even Longshanks begins to lose heart when he gets word that "York has been sacked". He is so furious with his son's allowing this to happen in his absence that he tosses the prince's military advisor out the window, a scene of almost Python-esque absurdity. Did that actually happen? Well, probably not. As far as historical accuracy goes, Braveheart takes a lot of liberties. But it captures the spirit of the Scottish freedom movement beautifully.

The tide turns for Wallace's cause when de Bruce obeys his father's command to betray him. In this battle, Longshanks himself shows up, having failed to convince Wallace with his terms of peace presented by the Princess. In their brief meeting, however, Wallace gained a powerful ally; it was the sympathetic princess who tipped him off that Longshanks planned to attack Edinburgh. Although Wallace survives the battle and his army, aided by the Irish forces, is not vanquished, the cause is weakening. And de Bruce is consumed with guilt over his betrayal. Determined to make things right, de Bruce calls a meeting with Wallace. Wallace comes, but de Bruce is aghast to discover that he has been an unwitting accomplice in the capture of his friend and hero. Now, with Wallace in their possession at last, the British feel sure they can break his spirit, and that of his followers. But they have misjudged badly...

The music of Braveheart, composed by James Horner, is haunting and beautiful. It matches the beauty of that noble land, a beauty echoed in the lyrical tones of the very speech of its people. The acting is superb on all ends, and the mere scope of the film is impressive. To get a taste of what went into putting this film together, watch the DVD, which comes with an enlightening mini-documentary on the making of the film, containing commentary from participants in the movie of all capacities. This was indeed an impressive endeavor, and although the violence caused me to leave the room on several occasions, and although the historical facts have been tweaked a bit to obtain the most Hollywood-compatible story, the film is fantastic nonetheless.

This movie is a tragedy, with thousands of violent deaths enacted upon the screen. It is a gruesome history, full of heartache and defeat. But it is, in the end, a tale of the triumph of the human spirit, the tale of one man who dared to think that freedom was in his grasp and the countrymen who dared to believe him. It is, above all, a testament to the sentiment that "they may take our lives, but they can never take our freedom!"